


Upstart Pretentions

by cnell



Series: Turning Page Productions [4]
Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-06
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-22 14:53:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/914517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnell/pseuds/cnell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As her digital media company begins to grow, Lizzie finds herself caught up in the power plays of Catherine de Bourgh and struggling to compete with Pemberley Digital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_February 2014_

 

A winter drizzle had just begun to fall over South of Market when Lizzie walked through the sliding doors off Mission Street. It was 10:00 AM on a long, hectic day of deadlines and business meetings, but she still felt her mood shift the moment she stepped inside - trivial annoyances giving way to the quiet reflection of Darcy Memorial Hall.

Tugging her scarf loose around her neck, she crossed the airy, high-ceilinged foyer to a minimalist fountain cascading over stone. No-one else was there, aside from the usual handful of visitors and employees passing through. She wandered a few steps along the water’s edge to gaze at the large portrait hanging on the wall above her.

The late Anne F. Darcy gazed back with a subtle confidence that always made Lizzie stand a bit straighter than usual. With her delicate features and sleek dark hair, she looked very much like her daughter, Georgiana; but her posture and expression were exactly like her son’s. Everything about her said “East Coast upper class”: reputable family, private school education, probably an advanced degree from a Seven Sisters college.

She was a surprising match for the broad-shouldered man standing behind her: William S. Darcy, every inch the California television producer with his shirtsleeves and hearty, suntanned face. He was wearing a tie and suspenders – a loud tie and wide suspenders, but it still made Lizzie smile. He looked like someone who laughed a lot, someone with big risky ideas. Anne’s family must have found him shocking. That made Lizzie smile too.

Lost in thought, she didn’t realize her own William Darcy had arrived until he spoke her name from three feet away. “Yes! Hi. Sorry,” she said, managing not to jump. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Only a moment,” he said. He kept a professional distance, hands folded in front of him; but his eyes smiled at her fondly. “Busy morning?”

“Ridiculous morning. I can only stay for 20 minutes.”

He nodded and ushered her toward the modern art gallery with a light touch on her arm.  As they left the fountain, Lizzie saw him glance up at his parents' portrait with an expression she was beginning to recognize, one that made her heart feel heavy and warm. It was still new, this habit of stealing random half-hours to walk through the collections and gardens with him. She knew it meant something but wasn’t in a hurry to name it.

When she spoke, her voice was teasing. “So it looks like my views are above 100,000 for the third straight week. I do believe you owe me dinner.”

He scoffed in mock-irritation. Two months ago he had dared Lizzie to discuss Russian literature in her videos (because it was Their Thing (they had a lot of Things)) without her viewers losing interest. She accepted the challenge with aplomb, incorporating six new costumes, comparisons to George Eliot and Gustave Flaubert, a heartfelt monologue on slut-shaming and a truly terrible Russian accent. “Next week we discuss Marxism,” she drawled her latest upload; “but in Tsarist Russia, Marxism _discusses you_.”

Darcy was delighted with the results – not that he was going to admit it. “I still think _Anna Karenina_ was too easy after that gaudy film adaptation you loved so much. Perhaps I should take Keira Knightley to dinner instead.”

“Fine,” Lizzie said. “I love Keira Knightley, you can introduce me.”

He chuckled. “Very well. While we’re on the topic, what are your plans for lunch?”

“Catching up with my investors, I’m afraid.” She sighed as she smoothed a lock of hair back into its businesslike knot. “I figured I’d better give them some extra attention before they switch any more funding over to you guys.”

She was aiming for lighthearted, but judging by the crease of his brow she missed by several yards. “I heard about that,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, it’s only business.” She smiled at him and absolutely _did not_ think about stakeholders and lease payments and rapidly dwindling seed money. “How’s your presentation shaping up for next week?”

“Chaotically, which seems appropriate.” Pemberley was hosting a panel discussion about the commercial release of the Domino app. He and his sister would both be speaking. “My contribution was ready on Monday, but Gigi…”

“… works at her own pace, you know that. Don’t micromanage. I’m sure she’ll nail it.”

“Yes, I know.” He accepted the reminder with a rueful shake of the head. “I started assisting her with her homework nine years ago and now I find it a difficult habit to break.”

Again, that warm, heavy feeling; but Lizzie only brushed his wrist with the backs of her fingers and said, “She must have been a handful.”

“Oh, she was quite terrifying. Were it not for Fitz and Caroline...” He trailed off and cleared his throat, while Lizzie was suddenly fascinated by the nearest abstract painting. “Well, you’re right,” he said briskly. “Gigi has always been more natural at public speaking than I.”

They walked for a moment in silence. Lizzie glanced at her phone and saw she only had ten minutes left. Darcy must have noticed too, because he moved them to a slightly faster pace. “I was wondering if you found the time to consider my invitation.”

Lizzie made a face. “Ugh, I was afraid you’d say that.” Following the Domino panel, Catherine de Bourgh was throwing a high-publicity cocktail party for 300 of her dearest friends at a swanky restaurant overlooking the Yerba Buena Gardens – otherwise known as William Darcy’s worst nightmare. “You’re the CEO, for crying out loud. Can’t you make up an excuse?”

“I’ve tried. Aunt Catherine is relentless.”

“So get Fitz to hang out with you.”

Darcy sighed. “He said he has a business trip – a very convenient, very amusing business trip.”

“Well, I can’t exactly walk in there on your arm, can I?”

They had reached an obscure exhibition of sculptures that was usually empty at this time of day. Darcy checked that the coast was clear before sliding his hands around her waist and pulling her close. “Just make an appearance,” he murmured. “It will give me something to look forward to.”

Lizzie shoved playfully at his shoulders. “You can’t kiss your way out of this one. I told you Lydia’s in town that weekend.”

“She can accompany you, if you like.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Wow. You are really desperate, aren’t you?”

“Lizzie.” He lowered his head until his lips brushed her ear. “I will get on my knees if I have to.”

Laughing, she squirmed free and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I need to think about it.”


	2. Chapter 2

The tension had returned to Lizzie’s neck and shoulders by the time she got back to her office that afternoon. The meetings with her investors had been less than comforting, she still had hours of work ahead of her, and the more she thought about the cocktail party, the more it seemed she would have to go. Everyone who was anyone in the digital media world was invited, and Catherine de Bourgh would see it as a victory if Lizzie wasn’t there.

“Damn it, lady,” Lizzie muttered, spinning her desk chair in a slow circle. “What is your problem with me?”

She already knew the answer. Darcy’s absent-minded mention of Caroline Lee had dredged it all back up – that unhinged confrontation on Lizzie’s video blog last March, when Caroline accused her of seducing Darcy and damaging Pemberley Digital. “His aunt is questioning her investment in his enterprise,” Caroline had said, a morsel of information that proved irresistible to every tech reporter in California.

Almost a year later, the gossip blogs had only just stopped talking about it; and Caroline had all but vanished. Only Bing and Jane had seen her, when she was passing through New York on her way to Italy and heaven only knew where else.

Catherine had been deeply embarrassed by the whole affair.  It was no secret that she had been grooming her protégée to marry her nephew, an alliance that would have met her exacting social standards and tightened her influence over Pemberley. With Caroline’s humiliation and Lizzie’s triumph broadcast all over the Internet, her power play had gone up in smoke.

To make matters worse, Charlotte Lu had used the distraction to change direction at Collins & Collins, making some strategic new hires and pitching her own ideas to the rest of the board. Accustomed to the fawning obedience of Ricky Collins, Catherine had not been prepared; and by the time she could regain her footing, several of Charlotte’s ideas had become too popular to shoot down. That was two tactical defeats in as many months.

All this fuss over Domino was Catherine’s way of regrouping. She was basking in the app’s success, surrounded by as many reporters and industry players as possible, and using the publicity to mend her reputation. Never mind that Domino was inspired by Lizzie’s diaries and Catherine had resisted the idea for months for exactly that reason – now she was behaving as if she wrote every line of code herself.

Lizzie sighed, drumming her pen against the desk. There was no proof, but she could not shake the feeling that Catherine was targeting her. The woman may not have a creative bone in her body, but everyone knew she had an uncanny skill for anticipating the moves of her competitors.

For months now, every investor and potential client Lizzie spoke to had been approached by Pemberley – even small, private organizations that were usually beneath the company’s notice. Several of her current investors had reduced their funding and one of her clients dropped her altogether, suddenly convinced that Domino would better suit their needs.

It was all fair play, perfectly legal, and Lizzie had no idea how to fight back. No matter how hard she tried, Pemberley was always one step ahead. If she didn’t find a way to secure her budgeted income for next year, she didn’t know how she would stay in business, much less stay in San Francisco – a prospect that Catherine de Bourgh must find very appealing indeed.

Lizzie couldn’t ignore the problem, and bringing it up with Darcy was out of the question. Her only option was to face Catherine head-on and pray for inspiration to strike.


	3. Chapter 3

“I don’t know,” said Lydia. She was sprawled on her stomach across the bed, studying for the midterm exams of her last semester at community college. “Are you sure you want to be seen with me?”

“Come on, don’t say that. Everybody loved you at VidCon.” Lizzie turned away from the whiteboard and peered into her webcam. It was another late night at the office, and she was chatting with her sister while storyboarding a community profile video and reviewing a script from the host of her newest spinoff channel (a critique of the lack of diversity in the Marvel film franchise, as it turned out).

Lydia tossed her copper-red hair out of her eyes. “Those were fans. This is weirdo rich people. Besides, I don’t need another weekend ruined by the sight of you and Darce making out in public.”

“Oh my god, that happened one time!” Lizzie laughed, throwing a crumpled Post-It note at her computer. “After _you_ got him drunk! He still blushes just thinking about it!”

“Whatever, horndogs.”

Lizzie could barely pretend to be annoyed. Lydia had regained nearly all of her old spark in the last year. She was even making videos again – sporadic, unedited, heartbreakingly brave videos with a loyal following of viewers. All of Lizzie’s secret worries about her sister’s future could not dampen her relief that Lydia was still Lydia, untamed and noisy and fearless.

“We’ll just check it out, and if the party sucks we’ll leave,” she said, plopping into her chair and stretching her stiff arms over her head. “Anyway, Jane could use photos of the dresses she gave us for Christmas.”

Lydia pursed her lips, considering this. One of the perks and duties of being sister to Jane Bennet, Assistant Buyer for Women’s Apparel, was that hardly a visit would go by without some custom-tailored bargain falling into their laps. They appeared regularly in Jane’s lookbook, particularly Lydia with her high cheekbones and long willowy legs; and Lizzie wore the outfits in her videos whenever she could.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” Lydia declared. She pushed her notebook away and sat up cross-legged on the rumpled bedspread. “I’ll go if we can do something fun after. I get to pick what it is.”

“Sure.”

“And I’m not paying for any of it.”

Lizzie sighed. “Okay, fine.”

“Anything the _whole night_ , Lizzie.”

“O _-kaaay_.”

Lydia nodded smugly, then squinted and waved her pen at the screen. “And no making out. For serious.”

“It’s a business function,” said Lizzie. She wrinkled her nose at her sister before wheeling herself out of frame in her chair. “Give me some credit.”

 

* * *

 

The cocktail party was in full swing when Lizzie and Lydia stepped out of the taxi. Following the crowd, they walked through a corner of the park to a long covered terrace, looking across waterfalls and gardens to the San Francisco skyline. Off to the left, the Pemberley Digital campus glowed benevolently through the trees.

They went inside, checking their coats at the door. The restaurant had floor-to-ceiling windows, large paper lantern style lamps and a granite bar with gleaming steel fixtures. Hundreds of guests filled the room and spilled out onto the terrace – corporate executives, socialites, management gurus and the usual cadre of reporters and photographers. 

“Aaaaand _easily_ the hottest person here,” Lydia said, discretely throwing up the horns with one hand. “God, computer people, step up your game.”

Lizzie breathed silent praise to Jane: thanks to her sharp eye and deft fingers, their dresses looked twice as expensive as they actually were. Lizzie’s was a cowl-necked sheath in silvery gray, while Lydia’s was daringly asymmetric and royal blue. The styles were opposite to each other without clashing, a rather symbolic fashion statement on Jane’s part.

Taking another look around, Lizzie recognized a number of industry leaders in the crowd. Gigi was over by the bar and gave them an enthusiastic wave, motioning that she would come find them later. In one highly visible corner was Catherine de Bourgh herself, resplendent in a beaded red dress and perfectly-coiffed hair, surrounded by half a dozen members of her inner circle.

Catherine was laughing at some private joke when her eyes fell on Lizzie and Lydia. Never had a slow turn of the head radiated such disapproval. Lizzie held her gaze for a full three seconds before smiling, nodding and turning away.

“Far _out_ ,” Lydia murmured. “Will that be you in thirty years?”

“Lydia, if that happens you have my permission to take my enormous Gucci handbag and beat me with it.”

“I’m going to need that in writing. Wow, your boyfriend looks like he wants to crawl in a hole and die.”

Lizzie followed Lydia’s gaze. Sure enough, there was Darcy, cornered against a row of potted ficus trees by a local politician. “Poor boy,” she sighed, and raised her hand until she caught his attention.

Darcy didn’t even let the politician finish his sentence. He dodged through the crowd and clasped her hand with more warmth than was entirely proper. “Lizzie. I am deliriously happy to see you.”

“ _Hey_.” Lydia jabbed a finger at him. “Leave space for Jesus, buddy.”

He glanced at the ceiling and smiled – a marked improvement from the stammering mess he’d been around her last year. “Hello, Lydia.”

“What’s up.” Her focus was already past him, trained on the tables loaded with stemmed glasses and silver platters. “Hey, is that champagne? Sweet. I’m gonna go drink until I pass out.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “Relax, William, she’s winding you up. She doesn’t even drink like that anymore.”

“Might have to make an exception!” Lydia sang out over her shoulder.

Darcy exhaled, then rewarded himself for his patience with a long glance at Lizzie’s dress and swept up hair. “You look lovely.”

“You’re not half bad yourself,” she said, shrugging at his charcoal gray suit even though they both knew it _did things_ for her. She took a glass of wine from a waiter’s tray and wished there weren’t so many rules to follow. “How was your presentation?”

“Bearable.”

The corners of her mouth curled up. “And Gigi’s?”

“Insightful and entertaining,” he admitted.

“Meaning...”

“You were correct, yes.”

“Hmm, imagine that.” Over his shoulder, she saw a board member and his wife marching in their direction. “I’d better catch up with Lydia. Be brave, my love.”

“I’ll try.” He skimmed his fingertips over the bare skin of her arm before heading back into the fray.

Lydia had grabbed champagne and her fill of hors d’oeuvres and was on her way back. Lizzie took two steps toward her, then almost jumped out of her skin when a wiry bug-eyed man popped up in front of her. “Lizzie!” he barked. “Just the person I was hoping to see.”

“Oh, hi … there,” she said, forcing a smile. He was a sales rep whose name she could never get right, and he’d been hounding her for weeks to advertise his gimmicky weight loss website to her viewers. She needed funding, but not that badly.

Lydia came to a stop several paces away and side-eyed the sales rep, who had launched into his pitch before Lizzie could stop him. Lizzie gave her sister an apologetic look and quirked her eyebrows: _just a second_. Lydia shrugged back and amused herself by staring at her and trying to make her laugh.

She did her best to get away, but the guy’s conversational style was of the bulldozer variety and he was determined to miss every hint she dropped. Several times she tried to edge around him, only to have him sidestep into her path and invade her personal space. He made Ricky Collins seem charming by comparison.

She was so focused on finding her chance to interrupt, it took her several minutes to notice that something was wrong. Lydia wasn’t looking at her anymore. In fact, she was staring at her glass, pinching the stem between her fingers, and there were blotches of red on her cheeks.

When Lizzie realized why, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Catherine was huddled with her friends, looking straight at Lydia and talking about her. She wasn’t even trying to hide it. Lizzie could make out some of the words from twenty feet away. _Disgraceful. Laughingstock. Polluted._

The sheer vulgarity of the situation was enough to knock the wind out of her. Lydia was isolated in this crowd of rich people all standing in little groups, and now Catherine was trying to pick her off. There would be a scene – she would run away, or be reduced to tears – and Lizzie would have to rush her home; and once they were gone that hateful gossip would spread through the room like a brush fire.

From the corner of her eye Lizzie could see Darcy watching her, a look of confusion on his face. The sales rep would not shut up. She clenched her teeth to keep from screaming at him.

They never should have come here.


	4. Chapter 4

“Smile, Lydia.”

The quiet command made Lydia jump. She snapped her head around and saw Darcy standing next to her. “What. You’re _kidding_ , right?”

“We’re being watched by the press,” he told her. His own expression was neutral, barely masking the anger in his eyes. “It is advisable to keep up appearances.”

She plastered a sardonic grin on her face just before a flash bulb went off three feet to her left. The blinding afterimage made her lift her head and throw her shoulders back – because if there was one thing you could say about Lydia Bennet, it was that she was not afraid of cameras.

Darcy kept his voice just loud enough to hear over the noise of the room. “Are you all right? Do you want to leave?”

She knocked back the last of her champagne. “No, I think I’ll stay here and annoy the crap out of your extended family if that’s okay.” Her words sounded rude even to her, but she didn’t care. She was pissed off, and pissed off was a lot better than scared.

He only arched an eyebrow and nodded as if this was perfectly reasonable. For a moment he looked his startled aunt square in the eye, then plucked Lydia’s empty glass from her fingers. A waiter appeared out of nowhere and whisked it away. “Would you care to walk to the bar with me? I have an idea.”

Why the hell not.

Lydia had never imagined it could take so long to cross a room. Every three steps some random person would run up to shake Darcy’s hand or slap him on the shoulder or wave a business card in his face, beaming at him like he was their best friend and they hadn’t seen him in years.

He didn’t look comfortable, but he knew how to handle it. He exchanged pleasantries with everyone, keeping Lydia moving and telling people he’d _love_ to stop and chat but he must attend to his very important personal guest, if they would please excuse him. He even introduced her a few times, saying she was “experienced in web video.” (It was flattering and grimly funny: oh, she had _experience_ , all right.) They all beamed at her too, and one of them told her he was “charmed, my dear,” like this was the 1920s.

When they finally got to the bar, Darcy ordered an expensive scotch for himself, turned to Lydia and looked baffled. She was equally confused by the cocktail menu. “Just … I don’t know, something strong with lots of fruit in it,” she said, and the bartender mixed her something with a name she couldn’t pronounce.

“Thanks.” Lydia stared at Darcy, wrapping her head around the messed-up fact that nobody would dare talk shit about her now, just because she stood next to him in public for ten minutes. “You people are space aliens, have I mentioned that?”

“Once or twice,” he said drily, and steered her back through the crowd. This time their route brought them close to his sister, who was managing her own circle of pushy admirers. He caught Gigi’s eye and motioned her to him with the slightest tilt of his head. She promptly made her excuses and strolled over like she’d been wrapping businessmen around her finger since she was four (which, of course, was true).

“Hey, big brother,” she said. “Lydia, your dress is making the rest of us look boring.”

“Oh, this thing? Well, you know, you…” She gestured toward Gigi’s black Chanel number and pearl drop necklace. “You’ll get used to it.”

Gigi laughed, then gave Darcy a quizzical look. He had stopped them just inside the restaurant’s tall glass doors, right in the center of the party where everyone could see them. Meanwhile, Lizzie had finally escaped the sales rep and was hurrying over to meet them. Darcy maneuvered her to his side, placing a hand on the small of her back. Another flash went off.

She froze and kept her eyes on his face. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Just stand here a moment,” he said. “This will not take long.”

Gigi’s eyes lit up. “Ooh, are we aiming for the society pages?”

“We are.”

“But you hate the society pages,” said Lizzie.

“I do.” He gave his sister a pointed look. “Keep talking, please.”

She immediately clasped her hands in front of her, tilted her head and smiled like a flight attendant. “So how _are_ we enjoying ourselves? Isn’t this cozy little function delightful?”

“Oh, it’s _super_ ,” Lydia mimicked. “I especially like how desperate everyone is to kiss up to you guys.”

Gigi scrunched up her face. “Ugh, right? It’s so annoying. William, is there a reason Aunt Catherine is trying to stare holes into the back of your head?”

Darcy was silent. Lizzie answered for him, her smile wide and brittle. “She doesn’t like him – what was the word? – polluting his reputation by hanging out with us.”

 _“Oh.”_ Gigi looked at Lydia; Lydia stared straight back. Gigi’s eyes narrowed, and then the flight attendant smile returned. “You know, I should really introduce you to Aunt Catherine’s friends sometime. They’re such an interesting set.”

Lydia snorted. Gigi waved her closer and lowered her voice. “That portly gray-haired guy with the glasses? That’s ‘Uncle’ Walter. He went bankrupt last year, but we don’t talk about that. His girlfriend there is younger than me, can you believe it?” She whispered behind her hand. “William says I shouldn’t be in the same room with him without a chaperone.”

“Um, ew?”

“Exactly.” A photographer zeroed in on the two of them; they smiled and angled their shoulders without missing a beat. “Then Susan, the older woman with the cleavage – _she’s_ having an affair with her daughter’s ex-fiancé. It was all over the tabloids. We don’t talk about that either.”

“Wow,” said Lydia. “You stay classy, guys.”

Gigi nodded as if she had said something of monumental importance. Lizzie, trying hard not to laugh, leaned over to Darcy and said, “You never told me your sister was evil.”

“Did I not?” he replied.

“Tom over there had to go to rehab after getting hammered at a polo match and falling off his horse,” Gigi continued. “We all really hope he’s turned things around this time. And finally, of course, our dear Aunt Catherine and her third – fourth? – third husband.” She wiggled her fingers at Catherine, who was looking quite put out. “Call me a romantic, but I really think this one’s going to stick.”

Darcy took a sip of scotch and said, rather too loudly, “Provided there are no more incidents with the chauffeur.”

Lizzie sporfled into her wine glass. Gigi’s eyes were like saucers. _“William!”_ she squeaked. “There are reporters!”

“Forgive me,” he conceded, “ _alleged_ incidents with the chauffeur.”

By now Lizzie had to fake a coughing fit. Lydia, whose grin was no longer fake at all, reached over to pat her on the back.

The charade was broken up by a request for a group photo, which caused a minor media scuffle and a traffic jam on the terrace. By the time they finished striking poses and fled outside, Catherine and her circle of friends had disappeared.

“All right, I think I’ve had as much as I can bear for one evening,” Darcy muttered. He looked at Lizzie and Lydia, allowing the frustration to show in his face. “I apologize for my aunt. She and I will be having a discussion.”

“We’ll talk about it,” said Lizzie, and leaned her shoulder against his. “I adore you, by the way.”

His expression softened. “I should hope so.”

Lydia’s eyes rolled back into her head. “Ugh, they’re getting gross again, I knew it.”

“Yeah, they’re totally hopeless,” said Gigi. She smiled with indulgent pride and tapped Lydia on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you where all the cool people are hiding.”


	5. Chapter 5

It was a surprisingly successful evening, all things considered. Lizzie got in some networking and joined some interesting conversations about digital media, Lydia and Gigi went out bar-hopping with the graphics design team and Lizzie went home with Darcy and made a wreck of his suit. (“Which breaks the no making out rule, which means you _so owe me_ ,” crowed Lydia at brunch the next day.) Their photographs ended up in the Sunday papers and social magazines, who were more than happy to feature stylish young people instead of the usual stuffy socialites.

A temporary victory, of course – Lizzie’s business troubles were right there waiting for her Monday morning. Darcy had coaxed her into admitting her suspicions about Catherine, but all he could do was promise that Pemberley would not approach small-scale investors or clients unless the board discussed it first. They were competitors, and he couldn’t afford to hold his company back even if Lizzie had wanted him to. She would just have to work harder to market herself, that’s all there was to it. The prospect made her want to sleep for a week.

She was returning from another stress-filled morning of appointments when Julia, her administrative assistant, said an unexpected visitor was there to see her. “She just walked into your office,” fretted Julia. “She wouldn’t leave a name, but she said you knew who she was.”

For a dreadful moment, Lizzie wondered if Darcy had ordered his aunt to come apologize to her, and imagined the small objects she would throw at him if he had. Steeling herself, she walked to her office, opened the door and found her visitor perched on the edge of her desk, leafing through the Sunday _Chronicle_.

Lizzie’s mouth fell open. _“Caroline?”_

Caroline Lee looked up from her newspaper with a sly smile and a sweep of silky black hair. “Digital Media’s Rising Stars,” she read aloud, indicating the photograph of Lizzie, Darcy, Gigi and Lydia placed prominently on the photo page. “Well played, Lizzie Bennet. Catherine must be beside herself.”

Her chummy tone made Lizzie’s hackles go up. “What are you doing here?” she said, crossing her arms and hoping she didn’t look as stunned as she felt.

Caroline took in her bluntness with a resigned quirk of the lips. “I have a proposition for you.” She removed a folder from her stack of papers and magazines and handed it to Lizzie.

She stared blankly at the document in her hands. She had to read the summary twice, and even then it didn’t make any sense. She shut the folder and slapped it onto the desk. “What is this? Caroline, if you think you can use me to get back at William…”

“Lizzie, please.” Caroline’s voice was rich with finely-tuned disdain, but her face just looked tired. “By all means, consult with your lawyer. He or she will tell you this is completely aboveboard.” She pulled out a business card, placed it next to the folder and tapped it with a manicured fingernail. “I’ll be in Los Angeles for the foreseeable future. When you’re finished play-acting Tolstoy, give me a call – if you’re so inclined.”

Lizzie searched for something dignified to say in reply, but came up with nothing. Caroline gave a cool little nod, walked past her to the door and stopped. “You’re very compelling,” she said, keeping her eyes straight ahead. “I was sincere about that much.” Then she left.

The visit left Lizzie in a fog for the rest of the day. She had only prepared herself to encounter Caroline at awkward family gatherings in the event of Bing and Jane’s marriage, which was still only a possibility on the horizon. To have her drop back into the middle of her life, and at this point in her career…

Lizzie stared at the folder on her desk like it might explode. Caroline’s knowing expression, her remark about playing the media against Catherine – it all felt weird. She was missing something.

In the end she had to fire up her YouTube channel, scroll all the way back to the beginning of the Diaries and look for clues. She watched every interaction several times: Caroline emotionally manipulating Lizzie, Caroline buying her an expensive handbag, Caroline doing costume theater, Caroline being _really freaking good_ at costume theater.

Then, finally, that ridiculous confrontation at Lizzie’s house. Caroline stormed into the den and accused her of ruining Bing’s life and trying to seduce Darcy. She flew in from Los Angeles expressly for that purpose, sitting down in front of the camera – looking directly at it, it’s not like she forgot it was there – and being over-the-top insulting and hypocritical, even though she knew Lizzie would post everything, even though she knew Bing and Darcy…

Lizzie stabbed her finger at the keyboard. The screen froze on Caroline’s face turned towards the camera, lips curved, eyes clear and sharp. Lizzie felt her stomach drop. The woman in the video was not clinging to her old life, she was deliberately lighting it on fire and watching as it burned to the ground – and exposing Catherine’s ambitions in the process.

“Oh god,” Lizzie groaned into her hands, “and then I invited her to dinner like some kind of...” She curled her fingers into her palms, then sat up straight and picked up the phone. “Julia? I need to talk to a lawyer.”

 

* * *

 

“Caroline.” Darcy looked as astonished as Lizzie had ever seen him. He stared at her, then stared at his coffee cup. “Caroline Lee is becoming an angel investor for your company.”

Lizzie fidgeted with her napkin. Outside the café, the art gallery hummed with the muted voices of the lunch crowd. “It’s a good deal,” she said. “She’ll provide the funding I need for next year, she’s allowing me full creative control, she understands corporate finance much better than I ever will...”

“And she has extensive insider knowledge of Pemberley Digital’s investment strategy.” He spoke slowly, allowing the implications to sink in.

She met his gaze and held it. “It’s only business, William.”

Darcy blinked, shook his head and reached across the table to take her hand. “Well,” he said at last. “This should be interesting.” Lizzie smiled back.


End file.
